


Nothing Like Him

by ZeNami



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Coping with anxiety, Determinate content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Not quite fade to black but pretty close, Post-Game, Tales from the Borderlands Spoilers, You didn't ship this but now you might, rarepair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-26 20:26:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6254623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeNami/pseuds/ZeNami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having stepped into the wasteland-worn boots of leadership for the Children of Helios, Vaughn isn't so much the panic-ridden, jumpy little accountant he used to be back in his Hyperion days. Actually, things are going great--for both him and his best friend Rhys, who now heads the revived ATLAS company. Of course, there are loose ends following the final days of Handsome Jack's mega-corporation; one of them is a stray Body Double who somehow managed not to get himself killed by vengeful bandits. When Vaughn finds Timothy Lawrence delivered by hand to his doorstep, he decides to give him what he's given everyone who's crossed his path: a chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vaughn

Vaughn had never known Jack, the programmer--not back when that was who he was. In fact, nobody at Hyperion had really seemed to know where Jack came from or how he rose in the ranks so quickly from such a low slot as a humble unknown. It had taken _years_ to nudge Rhys up the rails, with his best buddy spotting him all the way, trying to run the numbers in his favour. Jack--if that was his name--had done it alone; no wonder Rhys used to idolize the man. That kind of advancement was legendary.

The man standing in front of him at the gates of the Helios camp was... less legendary. However, he was also inarguably--in Vaughn’s eyes--Jack.

He would have continued to assume so (and taken appropriate measures of panic) if not for the woman standing behind the man, holding him by the rumpled collar to keep him from running off. She was someone Vaughn knew well, hard-eyed and glaring from under a dusty hood. He remembered back when Athena used to intimidate him; certainly she still had the same steely demeanor, but maybe he’d gotten used to it. That, and he’d been privy to her softer side once or twice.

This was not her soft side.

“You’re telling me this guy’s… not… Jack?”

“He’s one of Jack’s body doubles,” Athena explained, her tone clipped. Strictly business.

“Hi,” the young man said, his voice tight with tension as he lifted a hand in an awkward wave. He sure _sounded_ like Jack.

“... Why’d you bring him here?” Vaughn asked; he was staring at the Jack Doppelganger even while he spoke to the (retired?) Vault Hunter, giving him a wary once-over.

“I understand why you’re apprehensive,” Athena went on, looking at her charge as she kept a firm hold on his collar. “I would be, too. But Janey insisted I bring him here to you, and the rest of what’s left of Hyperion. Apparently he was a big help to her on Elpis… I have to take her word for it. She says he’s a good kid. He’s kind of useless, if you ask me, but he’s less likely to get shot for having that face _here_ rather than anywhere else on Pandora.”

“... You’re probably right.” Vaughn had to concede, his shoulders relaxing. He could only imagine how any bandit would react to seeing ‘Jack’ wandering around.  “Leave him with us, Athena. I think Janey had the right idea. Thanks for the, uhh…”

“Delivery?” Athena finished for him, raising both brows.

Vaughn replied with a wry smile. “Delivery. Your fiancée must be relieved that you’re finally settling down.”

Athena didn’t answer, but she did give Vaughn a thin smile, letting go of the Doppelganger’s collar as she turned to go, heading for the bike parked in the dust. “He’s all yours, Vaughn.”

The young man, now free from Athena’s iron grip, touched his neck where his shirt collar had been rubbing against it. He cast a nervous look in Vaughn’s direction. “Are… are you gonna lock me up, or something?”

“No,” Vaughn replied with a bit of a crooked grin, shaking his head. “You’re gonna want to stay with me for now. A lot of people here are a bit _jumpy_ about Jack, with good reason, and I don’t want anyone to get the wrong impression and try to start something. Follow me, alright?” He turned, heading inside the gates; with no alternative, the newcomer took a quick, nervous glance around before following him, staying behind him but nearby.

Vaughn led his new charge through the center of the camp, keeping a close eye on him; he could see the way the others stopped what they were doing. They put down their hammers and planks and clipboards to watch him, curious, and apprehensive, and uneasy. The sensation permeated the air, but Vaughn didn’t let it affect his carriage, offering the nervous Double a smile over his shoulder.

“So, what’s your real name?” He asked, genuinely curious.

“I’m--I’m legally not allowed to tell you that,” the Double answered, awkwardly looking off, following eyes that followed his own alongside the path. “It’s in my contract…”

“Hey, listen. Look around you,” Vaughn returned, shaking his head and gesturing in a circle with his fingertip. That was actually kind of funny. Contract? Was he serious? “This is what’s left of Hyperion. Everything and every _one_ that survived. All of Helios is here, crashed planetside. Your contract clauses burned up with the rest--”

“And my paycheck,” the Doppelganger murmured with a miserable grimace.

“--and your paycheck, and your obligations to a company that no longer exists. Forget it, man. You’re just you, now, unfortunate face aside. Uhh, no offense.”

“None taken.”

“Right. My point is, nobody owns you anymore, so let it go. You’re just like the rest of us, here. We all used to be accountants and consultants and paper-pushers and engineers--now we’re just people trying to make a living out of being alive.” He smiled again, stopping on the dirt path to look up at him. “What’s your name?”

“... Timothy,” the Double managed after a time, looking down, mildly mistified, at the short-statured Bandit Leader. “Timothy Lawrence.”

“Nice to meet you, Timothy. I’m Vaughn.”

Vaughn pushed back a sheet of worn canvas covering the door into a building that had been reconstructed out of space station parts; the front of the building was all yellow sheet metal, with a pair of bold white stripes crossing it diagonally. The sunlight of the dust gleamed off of it sharply and almost gave it a golden sheen. Inside, it was laid out almost like a typical Hyperion office; there was an ECHO console on a desk that looked like it had been bolted back together with scrap and a firm hand, and a small sitting area next to a set of stairs leading to a second floor. There was even a window with makeshift curtains and a sign mounted inside that looked like it had been ripped from a station door; someone’s ‘OFFICE’, but the name had been blacked out with charcoal.

Vaughn sighed, boots creaking on a floor of metal grate, as he brought his hood down now that he was out of the bright sun. As always, his long chestnut hair was pulled back into a simple bun to keep it out of his face. He’d grown fond of the style--sometimes he forgot it had ever been short. It really felt like it had been ages since he and Rhys had gotten themselves stranded planetside and started this whole venture.

He grinned in fond nostalgia at the memory, turning to face his charge. His expression sobered somewhat, though, going a little more serious when he noticed Timothy was minutely _vibrating_ , shoulders curled and brow worried, his nerves obviously shot.

Vaughn felt a pang of sympathy. He knew exactly what that felt like.

“Take it easy--grab a seat,” he offered, gesturing to the available sofas. “Let’s talk.”

Once he had Timothy seated, he offered him his own canteen of water, sitting down on the armchair opposite. He leaned forward, getting a good look at Timothy for the first time. He was about the same build as Rhys, he noticed--pretty tall, a slender frame, legs that were almost too long for his body. His knuckles seemed over-pronounced in his hands, which shook faintly where they were folded together; his skin tone, though, was unnaturally even, as if it had been touched up. He wore a dusty brown jacket and a collared shirt that was spotted with blood, rumpled and untucked over slate jeans, the overall look of which worked to match his windswept, ash-brown hair. And his face… he looked familiar in an unsettling way. Vaughn felt almost as though he were looking underneath Handsome Jack’s infamous mask at the man he used to be--grafted onto a man that he wasn’t.

“Why’d you take the job?” He asked softly.

Timothy was silent for a brief moment, looking surprised that he’d asked. After a breath, he looked down into his lap, holding the open canteen. “Student loans,” he replied, subdued. “Just… needed the money. I didn’t realize it was… going to be such an… intensive… position.”

Vaughn nodded, his expression calm. He didn’t feel fear or apprehension; not hatred, or revulsion, even.

Only sympathy.

“What’d you study?” He kept his tone gentle.

“What does it matter?” Timothy laughed--it was a humourless, hollow sound that made something in Vaughn’s bleeding heart twist. “History and lit. Nothing useful out here. And now I’m stuck with this face for my trouble, and my employers are done for. Great, isn’t it?”

Rhys had teased Vaughn now and then for being soft-hearted… not the sort of personality that got you very far in Hyperion, he’d say. And that was true (which was why he was an accountant, not the next department head). Vaughn had always been like that, though--ready to forgive, forget, and make amends, no matter what. Even for people he barely knew. He never held a grudge against Yvette for what she did, or Fiona when her priorities were elsewhere--or even Rhys, when he had kept Jack hidden from them. He wasn’t about to start making assumptions now. Not for Timothy. He knew that fear in his hands; that intense anxiety. He wouldn’t be the one to abandon him now.

“It really sounds like you’re stuck at a dead end,” Vaughn said at last, giving Timothy a level look. “I get it, man. I understand. You’ve been screwed over, just like the rest of us--only difference is, your situation’s a lot more… visible.” His eyes went to the window. “The Children of Helios aren’t Hyperion. Not anymore. I can’t exactly hand you a lump sum of your pay for the next decade. But…” he paused, glancing toward the desk and the ECHO console before looking back to Timothy’s face. “You got your degree, right? You must be pretty bright. How are you with data entry and paper records?”

Timothy seemed confused, but he answered tentatively after a moment’s consideration. “I… I have a good memory.” He nodded. “I took really good notes in university, I… hang on, what’s this about? I don’t get it.”

“Have you ever considered work as a personal assistant?”

Timothy stared at him, mouth agape. Vaughn was very tempted to reach across and gently close it, but he refrained. Instead, he shrugged, offering a nonchalant grin as he looked back to the ECHO console.

“We’re doing a lot of good work here, but it’s hard for just one ex-accountant to keep track of it all--and to be honest with you, I’m not as enthused by the idea of data management as I used to be. My priorities have shifted a lot since I landed down here. I could really use someone good at keeping records. You know, to maintain a supply count, watch the camp’s expansion…”

A quick glance up showed him that Timothy’s heterochromatic eyes were wide, glimmering with hope. Vaughn smiled.

“Can I offer you a job, Timothy? It doesn’t pay much, but you’ll have a place to stay, and food… friends… and you’ll be _safe_. I promise you that, personally.”

“It sure beats starving in the Dust and being shot at by anyone who gets a good look at me,” he sighed, sagging like an enormous weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. For the first time, Timothy smiled. “I’ll take it. I’ll take it!”

That got a grin from Vaughn that stretched ear to ear, lighting up his face with delight. “Welcome aboard the Children of Helios,” he said, offering his hand to shake. It sure was nice to get a real smile out of him.

Timothy shook his hand, looking genuinely grateful. “Thank you, Vaughn. You’re a good guy.”

 _I sure hope you are,_ Vaughn thought, offering a thin smile in reply.


	2. Timothy

The Children of Helios seemed like well-meaning people, honestly; they were all a little bit lost, mostly confused, largely frightened of the larger beasts and creatures that prowled around in the dust. Timothy was certain that most of them had never been within six feet of a skag or a stalker in their entire lives. There was a certain privilege to living on a moonbase--nobody had to deal with the reality of what kind of planet Pandora was. From up there, he knew, it was actually kind of pretty. The curved horizon split the void of space with blue, green and gold, crisp white edges on mountains and ice floes glimmering in the light of the faraway sun.

Elpis had been much the same, for the gratuitous amount of time he’d spent there. Everything could probably kill you; everything was bigger than it had any right to be. The moonbase had been safe from that, too. It was a little odd, when he thought about it--Helios had been a sort of pocket-shelter between a cracked, boiling rock and a hard place full of eridium and death. None of these former paper-pushers had been ready for either.

And yet, somehow, they had been able to survive, rise to their feet and carry on behind the leadership of a single former accountant.

Vaughn didn’t  _ look  _ like an accountant, Timothy thought. Maybe that was blatant stereotyping, but there was a heavy degree of truth to it. From a quick glance, it was impossible to imagine the man behind a desk, running numbers on his ECHO, cradling a pocket calculator like a second heart. He had heard once that the wilds of Pandora could change you; that if you stayed here long enough, you would become just as wild (and dangerous) as the rest of it. Maybe that held true for Vaughn. Timothy had no idea how long Vaughn had been planetside before the fall of Helios, but it must have been quite a while. He looked like he belonged here, dust on his skin and bright sun in his eyes.

Timothy envied that, a little.

“Hey, can you bring up the map on your ECHO for a second, Timothy?”

The Doppelganger blinked out of his thoughtful reverie, looking from Vaughn’s inquisitive face to the device on his wrist. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

Timothy opened up the map, which projected itself neatly in the open air; they were standing at the foot of a dirt path near some half-constructed shelters in the afternoon sun. It warmed the back of his jacket, making him surprisingly comfortable. Former Hyperion employees toiled nearby, dragging planks and parts into place, holding them steady while others hammered and drilled them secure. It seemed like something was always in the works, here, which meant everyone was always busy. It was what most of them were used to; maybe it kept them happy.

Timothy watched Vaughn through the steel-blue projection of the map; the short-statured man’s brow was furrowed in thought as he peered across the layout. “Some of our people scavenged a mostly intact power generator from the base wreckage this morning,” he explained, still giving the schematic a good look. “It doesn’t have a core, but we can find one, I’m sure. We might be able to expand the entire grid this way to the west if we can get it up and running.”

“What about putting it here?” Timothy suggested, pointing to an open area of the map up against a craggy cliffside with his free hand. “It’d be well-defended from the south, and pretty central, so you’d need fewer cables running outward to the camp buildings, right?”

“That…. actually makes a lot of sense,” Vaughn remarked, his grey-blue eyes lighting up. He cast Timothy a smile and a grateful nod. “Thanks. I’ll ask Loaderbot if he can help the construction crew carry the generator over to the cliff, and we’ll get something built up to maintain it.”

Timothy smiled a little himself. Working with Vaughn was actually pretty nice; it sure beat his last superior. Of course, Timothy had watched his previous employer descend into madness over a Vault, ultimately turning into a genocidal sociopath and getting rightfully cut down by Pandoran rebels, so… it wasn’t necessarily hard to  _ beat  _ his last superior.

“We’ve been out in the sun for hours. How about we take a coffee break?”

“Yeah… yeah, coffee sounds pretty good, actually.” Timothy’s shoulders relaxed, lowering his arm and letting the projection flicker and shut off.

As the pair walked together back toward the center of the camp, Timothy’s mismatched eyes scanned about; it had been a couple of weeks, and for the most part, the majority of the camp’s residents had stopped staring and whispering. Vaughn had made a bit of a public announcement on his behalf to explain the situation, and Timothy was amazed at how readily they all listened to him. The accountant-turned-bandit seemed like such a modest person for someone who clearly held considerable influence over all these people. He was starting to feel more at ease walking around on his own, though his curiosity grew with each passing day.

Especially about that statue of Handsome Jack near the entrance to the camp with the name ‘Rhys’ scrawled across it in sloppy paint. What the _hell_ was the deal with that?

Coming in from the hot sun was a surprisingly welcome relief--the moment Timothy stepped inside, he realized how warm he really was, shedding his jacket and leaving it on a metal hook by the door with a sigh. The yellow Hyperion sweater he wore over his button-down was fairly thin, but it was more than enough to keep him comfortable. Vaughn, in the meantime, took down his hood as he always did and made his way to the coffee machine on the table near the desk, putting on a fresh pot with a soft hum.

He’d told Timothy the machine had been salvaged from the space station wreck, like most things--and it had been one of his top priorities, getting it fixed and working. It wasn’t exactly a nonfat mocha, he’d said, but it was sure better than nothing.

Timothy grinned to himself a little at the memory. Imagine living at the edge of death every day, and the only thing Vaughn seemed to consider worth lamenting was the loss of decent espresso.

The former Body Double sank into a seat on one of the sofas with a long sigh; he wasn’t really tired after half a day on his feet, but it still felt nice. He felt something jab him in the back, though, grunting as he reached behind himself--he had a paperback jammed into his rear pocket. Oh, right--it had been under his jacket before, hadn’t it?

“What’s that?” Vaughn asked as he approached, sitting not directly in the armchair but leaning against the arm of it, half-seated with one boot still on the floor.

Timothy blinked, looking away from the worn cover up at Vaughn. “Oh, it’s just… something I was reading. Nothing important.”

“You like to read?” Vaughn inquired, leaning forward a bit in what looked like genuine interest.

“N-- … yeah,” Timothy half-stammered, forgetting for a moment that he didn’t have to pretend to be someone else. That still happened, sometimes--it was a difficult thing, breaking a habit so long-standing. “Yeah, I like reading. Just about anything, really… especially in old-fashioned paper and ink.”

“Ohh, me too, though. There’s something nice about the texture of paper in your hands,” Vaughn said, nodding toward the book with a smile. “ECHO readers are handy, but I always preferred flipping through the physical volumes. You know, if I wasn’t trying to cite something.”

“Yeah!” Timothy’s enthusiasm took a leap, finding himself delighted to share a thought with the former accountant. “It’s just… nice, you know? I used to have so many books, before…”

“It  _ is _ nice. You said you studied literature, right?”

Timothy was surprised Vaughn remembered. “I did. All the classics, a lot of history… but I love the adventure novellas and mystery paperbacks, short stories and… poetry… you know, all kinds of things.” He cleared his throat, a little embarrassed. “When I took this job, I kind of had to leave behind anything that was ‘Timothy’, to make room for everything ‘Jack’. It was… pretty hard, if I’m honest. I miss my books. I miss a--a lot of things,” he finished, awkwardly. He could feel himself over-sharing; things about himself that he wasn’t ready to disclose yet. Not yet. Maybe later…

The last thing he needed to do right now was spill his whole stupid sob story on Vaughn.

Vaughn nodded. There was no sign of mockery or pity on his face. Just understanding. “Hey, man, I get it. It’s gotta be rough, just lifting up your whole life and putting it on the backburner for… however long your contract is.”

“Twenty years.”

Vaughn grimaced.

“Yeah,” Timothy sighed. “I only had about five or six years left to go.”

Vaughn’s eyes widened in obvious shock. “... Uhh… wow. I didn’t realize--you… you’re uh, older than you look.”

“There’s a reason for that,” the Doppelganger said with a wry smile.

“... Have you tried to get the facial surgery reversed?” Vaughn asked cautiously, his voice low. “I mean, you obviously don’t need to look like… he’s dead and all, right?”

“... Don’t panic, but…”

“But?”

“There’s kind of a... bomb, in my face. It’ll go off if anyone tries to tamper with it.”

Vaughn gave him a horrified look. Timothy returned with a quietly resigned expression.

“Yeah. Sucks. Sucks bigtime.”

“... No kidding,” Vaughn breathed, his shoulders slumping. “I’m… I’m sorry, Timothy. I really wish there was something I could do.”

“You did enough not turning me away,” Timothy replied, his voice soft and subdued.

Vaughn frowned, getting up at the sound of the coffee timer; he returned momentarily with two mugs of hot java, passing one off to Timothy, who thanked him and took a small sip. He liked it black.

“I might have an idea,” Vaughn said after a moment, looking thoughtful.

“An idea…?”

“My friend Rhys recently came into some really good fortune,” Vaughn started, “pretty literally. He kind of owns Atlas now.”

Timothy’s eyes widened. The name on that broken statue in the camp…

“I’m guessing everyone around here knows who he is?”

“Well,” Vaughn said, rolling his shoulders, “He’s largely responsible for undoing the entirety of Hyperion corporate, and blowing up the moonbase. I helped him get there, but most of the credit goes to Rhys on that one. It wasn’t really the plan we started with, but plans change. Life is like that sometimes.”

“Holy shit,” Timothy muttered under his breath.

“Yep. And he got his hands on the deed to the entire Atlas corporation; apparently he just took it from Handsome Jack’s office. The Children of Helios kind of revere him as a saviour or something. I don’t know.” He laughed. “To me, he’s just my best bro.”

Timothy sighed, shaking his head. “And now he just… owns Atlas. This guy…”

“It means I have some pretty interesting connections,” Vaughn went on, looking at Timothy over his coffee cup. “There’s an Atlas scientist named Cassius under his employment now. Really smart guy, used to run bio-experiments and that kind of thing. Likes fruit. He cured me of a toxin-induced full-body paralysis once. It was awful, couldn’t blink, I cried for hours afterward, really sad. Anyway, maybe he’d know something about how to help you with your… face-bomb... problem.”

Timothy bit his lip; well, not the most convincing proposition, but… he wanted to hope. Hope was a sort of dangerous thing. It could make one feel lighter in the moment, but the higher up you got, the harder the fall when disappointment inevitably shot you down. Still, he couldn’t help it. “Maybe. Yeah. Hopefully without the, uhh… crying for hours after, thing.”

“Small price, honestly. But hey, I’ll get in touch with Rhys. See if we can’t figure this out.” Vaughn offered him a smile, toasting him with his coffee mug. “Alright?”

“... Thanks, Vaughn,” Timothy sighed, smiling nervously as he lifted his own mug. “I… I really appreciate it.”

Hopefully, he thought, this Rhys guy was as level-headed and understanding as Vaughn.

Not likely, he also thought, taking another sip of black, bitter coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting into some more determinate content now; these are based in my choices during my playthrough of TFTBL. Hopefully I'll be able to introduce some more characters in the coming chapters!
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments, kudos and feedback. I hope you're enjoying the buildup!


	3. Vaughn

“Rhys!!”

“Vaughn!”

The short ex-accountant practically tackled his best friend at the gate, wrapping his arms around his middle in an enthusiastic hug. It was returned, consequently, causing Vaughn to release a short laugh and a ‘whoa’ as his feet were lifted off the dust. They both pulled away grinning ear to ear, Vaughn’s hands on Rhys’s arms and Rhys’s hands on Vaughn’s shoulders.

“It’s been almost three weeks,” Vaughn chastised, shaking his head with a smirk and a furrowed brow. “You too busy being a big deal CEO to come by and see your best bro?”

“Oh, come on. I always make time for you, Vaughn,” Rhys returned with a good-natured smile, nudging him in the shoulder with his cybernetic hand. “I could say the same for you, though. It looks like you’ve been busy, with, uh…” He looked up, scanning the new camp development past the gate. “With all of this. Wow. I’m impressed.”

“We’re just doing the best we can,” Vaughn replied with a modest glance away, rubbing the back of his neck a bit. He was beaming with pride, though; praise from Rhys still made him feel like the coolest guy planetside, even now. He couldn’t blame the Children of Helios for their admiration of him--he was a really admirable person. “Come on, walk with me, I’ll show you what’s new. We’ve got some catching up to do, anyway.”

The pair walked alongside each other through the gate and into the camp proper, following the worn dirt paths that wound through completed and half-completed structures, space station steel and yellow paint gleaming in the late morning sun. Vaughn stopped along the way to greet a group of workers taking a coffee break seated around one of the old Helios Lounge tables which had been converted into outdoor seating; they all seemed cheerful, a couple of them smiling wide and waving when they recognized Rhys. The Atlas CEO grinned--despite the fact that he was still a little awkward about how reverent they were of him, he still had an ego that appreciated the attention now and then. Nothing about his ventures and ordeals had made Rhys humble, Vaughn thought. Forcing humility on Rhys was a daunting, impossible task, and a waste of time besides.

“So what about you?” Vaughn asked finally, once they’d looped around and started toward the central building. “How’s rebuilding going? Any big plans?”

“Plans? Oh, yeah, big plans,” Rhys said, lifting his head as they walked and squinting into the sunlight. It caught the gold of his ECHO eye, making it gleam. “This is my chance to be even bigger and better than Hyperion, Vaughn. I’ve got one big advantage that my predecessors never had.”

“Yeah?” Vaughn cocked his head a bit, grinning with amused curiosity. “What’s that?”

“Experience,” Rhys emphasized with a sweep of his hand, as if displaying a title in midair. “I’ve lived down here. I know how it works, I know what it’s like. A lay of the land, so to speak. A real… _connection_ with the people.”

Vaughn bit back a laugh. “You’ve got connections all over the place, that’s for sure. Useful people. Con artists, rocket mechanics, Vault Hunters, merciless but surprisingly honest thugs that kinda tolerate you for the most part, robots that see you as some kind of father figure and only dragged you through the desert once--”

“Yes, Vaughn,” Rhys interrupted, giving him a tight smile and another gentle nudge. “Those are connections. You forgot the self-made Leader of the Children of Helios, though.”

Vaughn couldn’t help but glow, dropping his line of sight to his boots as he walked. “Yeah, that too.”

“And a lot more,” Rhys said, grinning and clapping his hand on Vaughn’s unguarded shoulder. “I’m really gonna make something of Atlas this time. Something that works _with_ Pandora, not against it.” His expression sobered a little, giving Vaughn a more sincere smile. “Hey. You’re still gonna be there with me, aren’t you? You might not want to be my vice-president anymore with all this going on, but… if you need anything, just call. I meant what I said, about making it together.”

“I know,” Vaughn replied, stopping in the dusty clearing outside the central building to smile back up at him. “I’ll have your back forever, bro. You just say the word.”

Rhys didn’t say anything, just prompting for a fistbump with his chrome hand instead. Vaughn obliged him, and as always, they understood each other perfectly.

Vaughn drew a breath, hoping that feeling would hold true now.

“Rhys? There’s someone I’ve been meaning to introduce you to.”

“Yeah?” Rhys looked curious, folding his arms and tilting his head a touch. “Who?”

“He’s a new arrival,” Vaughn explained, folding his hands and pressing his index fingers together against his lips for a moment. “I’ve taken him on as a personal assistant. There’s just… something about him you should be prepared for, before I uhh, introduce you two.”

“... Ooookay.” Rhys looked skeptical, giving Vaughn a puzzled look. “What is it, bro? You seem worried. What are you worried about?”

Vaughn sighed. “Just promise me one thing, Rhys?”

“Sure…?”

“Please--please don’t punch him in the face. You’re probably going to want to, it’s gonna be really tempting, all things considered, but please just--just bear with me on this.”

Both of Rhys’s eyebrows made an adamant climb toward his hairline. “... Okay. No face-punching. I can’t imagine what reason I would have to punch a guy I just met, but, uh… if it… makes you feel better, I promise.”

“Good,” Vaughn said, a little clipped, a touch of his old nerves showing through. “That’s good. Okay. Let’s go in and say hi. I told him you were coming.”

Vaughn pushed the canvas over the door aside, leading Rhys into the office; he stepped forward, blinking as his eyes adjusted from the sun. The desk was unexpectedly unoccupied, and there was no one sitting on the sofas, either. That was weird.

Rhys gave Vaughn a questioning look; the shorter man shrugged, looking around.

“Timothy?” He called, “Hey, are you here? Timothy…?”

There was motion behind Rhys at the door, the canvas being pushed aside. A man equal his height with a swoop of ash-brown hair and a frighteningly familiar face stepped inside, holding an ECHO reader. “Sorry, Vaughn, I was just missing some information. Is this Rhy--”

“Don’t!” Vaughn yelped.

A fistful of chrome struck Timothy hard in the bridge of the nose before he could finish his sentence, sending him reeling back into the doorframe with a shout, clutching his face. “ _Ow!!_ Son of a _bitch--_!”

Rhys was standing back as if he’d just seen a horrible, handsome ghost, white as a sheet and wide-eyed. His cybernetic hand was still clenched in a fist, even when Vaughn reached for his wrist, his tone urgent. “Rhys, don’t! He’s not Jack, I swear--he’s just a body double. Come on, take it easy, man…!”

“What--the _hell_ , Vaughn!!” Rhys looked between the two of them with a mix of terror and rage, a waver in his voice. “A body double? Are you _kidding_ me? Why didn’t you just tell-- _Oh_ , my god--!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” Vaughn pleaded, trying to calm Rhys down while looking to Timothy in concern. The Doppelganger was bleeding, a bright red trickle dripping from his nose to his lip, and his brow was furrowed in pain as he dabbed at it with two fingertips.

“You’re right,” Vaughn continued, looking up at Rhys as he came to stand between them, gently holding his best friend by the arms. “You’re right, I should have been more specific. But I swear, Rhys, Timothy is a good guy. He’s been really helpful around the base, he’s great with statistics and tracking, he just--has this really unfortunate _face_ problem, but it’s not--it’s not who he is, Rhys--”

“Can we talk?” Rhys said stiffly, not taking his eyes off of the body double. There was anger in the tight lines of his posture, fingers twitching, gritting his teeth. “Upstairs, Vaughn?”

“I’m fine,” Timothy said, sniffing and reaching for a greasy cloth in his back pocket, pressing it under his nose. “This is fine. No, I get it. I’m used to it and not even surprised, so, whatever.”

Vaughn grimaced; this whole thing was derailing much faster than he’d expected. “Yeah, yeah--upstairs, okay. Sorry, Timothy, we’ll be right back down.”

The second floor of the building was quite clearly a living space; what Rhys and Vaughn emerged into was a cozy seating area set to the side of a small kitchen where an old cafeteria table had been installed, and the far side of the room was walled off with heavy goldenrod curtains to offer the makeshift bedroom a little privacy. It was modest, but it was still a step up from Helios living quarters, especially for an accountant.

Rhys took a heavy seat on the sofa by the coffee table and the second floor window, pushing his hair back with both hands and staying there, elbows on his knees. Vaughn took a cautious seat beside him, searching for the right words. He couldn’t find them. Instead, he just put a gentle hand on Rhys’s shoulder, trying to offer some medium of comfort.

“You don’t know what it was like,” Rhys said after a long moment--his voice wavered with stress, and was barely above a whisper.

“I don’t,” Vaughn admitted, keeping his own tone low, gentle. “You’re right… I’m sorry, Rhys. I don’t. But… I want to understand.” He curled his fingers against Rhys’s black jacket, leaning forward to look at him with concern in his pale blue eyes. “You went through a lot alone that nobody else could help you with, and you never even… talk about it. I worry about you, you know. You’re tough as nails, that much is obvious, but…”

“It’s not something you just get over,” Rhys finished for him, cradling his forehead in his hands, his eyes screwed shut. “I had that megalomaniacal psychopath riding shotgun in my head for… for I don’t even know how long. Way too long. I used to _worship_ the guy, and then… well… they say you should never meet your heroes, right? It shatters the illusion. It can really… really mess you up.”

Vaughn swallowed, nodding, but he let Rhys continue uninterrupted.

“In the end, he nearly killed me and everyone I care about,” the CEO sighed, lifting his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with chrome fingers. “I almost believed him, Vaughn. Almost. For a split second I thought I was gonna live the dream of running Hyperion in the footsteps of my biggest idol. But it didn’t happen that way. Not even close. I was always a puppet to him… almost literally, near the end, there.” He shuddered. “I still think I see him over my shoulder sometimes, or hear him in my head, and for a minute I think he’s gonna take my arm and rip my throat out or something. It’s not something you just… get over.”

Vaughn’s heart sank to the bottom of his chest. Timothy hadn’t meant to startle him, but…

“I get it,” he said quietly, drawing his hand over to rub Rhys’s back in gentle circles. “I’m sorry, Rhys. I didn’t realize how bad it was. ...You really are my hero,” he added, sighing.

Rhys looked up from his hand, glancing toward Vaughn with a questioning expression. “I am…?”

“Yeah,” Vaughn said, doing his best to give him a smile. “All that? I don’t think I’d have been able to handle it. Let’s face it--I probably would have had a stroke by the third time he showed up. The fact that you made it through all that and you’re still you? That’s incredible. I’m really proud to know you, Rhys.”

Rhys was silent for a moment, smiling feebly; he drew Vaughn into a hug, squeezing him tight around the shoulders.

“... Thanks, Vaughn.”

“Anytime, man.”

Vaughn drew back, rubbing Rhys’s shoulder in reassurance. “I’m sorry Timothy brings back hard memories. I want you to know I’m not gonna set you aside for his sake. I understand, Rhys.” He drew in a breath, letting it out slowly as he glanced toward the stairs. “If you could just… give him a chance… he’s been just as screwed over as the rest of us. He’s a poor sap that got sucked into a Hyperion scam trying to pay off student debt. He can be a bit… sharp, but he’s honest, and he means well. He deserves help as much as… as any other Child of Helios.”

Rhys was quiet for a moment, staring at Vaughn; however, he nodded after a few beats, curling his fingers into his palms. “I’ll try, Vaughn… but just because I trust _you_ to know what you’re doing. I’ve never known a smarter guy with a better head on his shoulders.”

“Thanks,” Vaughn said, offering a sincere smile.

Rhys managed a smile back, looking off a bit. “I guess I better go apologize, for, uh... punching your personal assistant in the face.”

The pair stood up, heading for the stairs together. Maybe, Vaughn thought, this would work out, after all.

He just hoped, one more time, that his faith wasn’t misplaced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really, REALLY like writing Rhys and Vaughn's beautiful friendship.  
> I hope Tim's nose is ok. That's a mean right hook, Rhys.  
> Comments are much appreciated, as always! I'm doing my best to stay on point with characterization and pacing.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to curiouschiroptera (EruditExperimenter on Ao3) for beta-reading, and to timeanddivision/freedomconvicted (tumblr) for heavily influencing the plot of this fic and jumping on board this tiny little ship. Comments are very much appreciated and encourage me to keep writing!


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